gingerbread tea and honey, oh call me honey
like golden running down the sides of your mouth,
sticking to those pearly whites. I should call it
a night,
but again its up and at em, chant style singing and
showing stars how to shine.
really, oh how i would just like to whine whine
wine in a fridge from a dance disaster explosion,
is mine, all mine.
this is talent, this is dangerous
this is restless - growing baby trees
tobacco and navy beans.
flexible rows and overhead lights seems sooo
trite.
born to die, born to die, born to DIE
because there's nothing more useless than a dull razor blade.
nothing like waiting for no shows, saying hi to shadows.
They'll be feeding us
They'll be feeding on us.
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